From the Start
by potterwhiz
Summary: How did Jack Kelly ecome a famous strike leader? How did he acheive such a wild past? This story explains it all, his first arrest his parents, the name Jack Kelly, etc.
1. Chapter 1

New York, to many is a place for dreams and hopes, but for young Francis Sullivan it was a cage. His Father had been arrested before he was born and his mom died after his birth leaving him an orphan doomed to a life lacking the adventure that he longed for deep in his heart. At the age of four he ran away from the orphanage he grew up in after the headmaster slapped him for sneaking around the night before. After a few months on the streets he ran out of money and was forced to beg on the streets. Even though life was going hard for poor Sullivan he would soon find that one mistake has the power to change one's life forever. This is the story of how he became the most well-respected "Newsie" the world has ever known.

It was a cold November night and young Sullivan sat under the shelter of a box cuddled up in an old blanket. He hadn't eaten for five days and was becoming ill. As he peered out of the box he saw a street merchant waving fresh warm bread and screaming, "FRESH BREAD! COME AND GET IT! ONLY ONE DOLLAR PER LOAF!"

Quickly, he reached into his pocket and found that he had only two cents on him. A tear ran down his face, he immediately wiped it away in embarrasment. He removed the box from over his small fragile body and walked slowly, but with hope, down the alley to the merchant. As he approached his confidence weakened leaving him at a loss for words when the man asked him what he wanted. Instead he held out his hand revealing the two cents and then pointed at a loaf.

"Are you kidding me, boy?" laughed the merchant. He shook his head.

"Please sir just one I…" he pleaded.

"Leave now boy! I ain't into charity!" he yelled. Without thinking Sullivan took hold of the loaf and started to run with all the strength he had left. Next thing he knew, he was in the arms of a police officer.

"Hold on their son, what's wrong with ya?" asked the officer. Sullivan had begun to cry and shake at the site of the man he felt relief, not because of the man's authority but because of the kindness in his vioce. He would have been happy to spend the rest of his life in that man's arms.

"THAT BOY STOLE BREAD!" yelled the distrait merchant. Confused the officer looked down at the poor and weak boy in his arms.

"Sir, this boy is skin and bones. Are you sure he stole it?" the officer looked back at the merchant.

"Yes! He was trying to buy it for two cents!! Quick arrest him!"

"Sir he can't be more than six, now come with me and we will take him to the shelter. The lady there will pay for the bread,"

"That's not good enough he is a criminal!" screamed the man. Everyone on the street froze to watch the argument. The officer nodded and motioned the man to follow him. Slowly they walked to the courthouse and approached the judge's office. The officer told the merchant to wait outside while he took the boy inside.

"Judge Sumter this boy was caught stealing a loaf of bread from a merchant on Chester Ave. The man outside demands that he be punished." Announced the officer.

The Judge was an old, plump man in his sixties with an old gray beard. He wore a black robe like most judges, but seemed to be grumpy and annoyed by this interruption.

"How old are you?" he snapped at Sullivan. Shaking dramatically Francis held out five fingers in reply. "Can't you talk son? TALK!"

"I…I am five.., sir" he replied barely holding back his tears.

"FIVE? Where are your parents?"Asked the judge.

"My mom is dead and my pa is in jail," he replied under his breath."

"Ahh! So you are an orphan then?"

"Yes, sir"

"Well I have no sympathy for anyone, besides why aren't you at an orphanage?"

"I ran away, sir"

"Well that was very wrong of you, now do you know it's wrong to steal?" Sullivan nodded in reply. "What's your name?"

"Francis Sullivan, sir."

"Francis do you know what happens to people who steal? They go to jail, I have no choice but to put you in the refuge for a few months," the judge then turned to the officer, "Take him to the refuge and tell the man to come in." The officer nodded and lead the boy out of the room.

Once at the Refuge the officer pointed to a chair at the end of the hall and told him to wait there. Then he walked into an office at the other end of the hall. "Sir, I have a boy here for you by the name of Francis Sullivan. He is to serve three months."

"How old is this boy?" asked the stout, little man.

"He is five, sir." Replied the officer.

"Five? What crime did he commit?" questioned the man

"He stole bread from a merchant, sir, Sumter was in a bad mood."

"Well that just means more money for me, then. Oh! And his parents where are they?"

"Dead and imprisoned,sir."

"Very well you are free to leave," the man then waved him out the door. Once out the door the officer came over to Francis.

"Son I need you to listen to me, okay? My name is Jack Kelly, okay? Now I want you to remember that name, yes?" Sullivan nodded and then Kelly handed him a paper, "When you are released in three months give them this address and they'll take you to me okay?"Once again he nodded. Kelly ruffled the boy's hair and walked away.

"You there! Stand up, quickly," the stout man had come out of his office and walked abruptly to the small boy he saw sitting on the bench across from his office. Francis was wearing a pair of torn jeans that barely made it past his knees and an oversized men's coat. He had a few tear still running down his pale, thin cheeks. His dark brown eyes were hidden by his rugged hair, he wore a red bandana around his neck like a cowboy.

"Yes, sir."

"Come on now and hurry," He motioned for Francis to follow him, but when he tried to walk his legs gave out and he tumbled to the floor. When he screamed in pain the man turned to him and lifted him by the shoulders. "What's matter, boy? Can't cha walk?"After taking a few minutes to look the boy over he saw that he was half starved to death. "Hey? When's the last time you ate son?"

"I dunno my stomach hurts," soon he passed out in the strangers arms. The man, Mr. Snyder, picked him up and carried him to the nurse.

When he woke up Francis was lying on a cot covered with a warm blanket. As he looked around he saw a tall woman standing near a window. She wore a long white coat unlike anything he had ever seen before, her red hair was in a tight bun held with pins. When he sat up she turned to him and walked steadly towards the cot.

"Finally, you street rats snore like old men. Now eat this, how long did you think you could go without eating? Didn't your parents feed you?" the nurse talked so fast that he could barely understand.

"I ain't got no family," he announced abruptly as if to hint that he didn't want to talk about it. The nurse understood and walked off. When she came back she brought him a bedgown and motioned for him to put it on, then she left the room. The gown was scratchy, but warmer than anything he owned. Maybe this isn't gonna be so bad he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

OneMistake

**"**WAKEUP! NOW!" Mr. Snyder had unlocked his cell and had begun to bet him with a cane.

"Stop it won't cha!" He yelled. This was the third time that week that the old man had woke him up in such a manner. A few weeks ago he had gotten in a fight with a boy who called him a "shortie", it may have been a dumb fist fight but it landed him in solitary for two whole weeks. He had now been in the refuge for one whole year and was almost seven years old, granted that his birthday was in two months. It seemed that every little thing a boy did gave him another two months in the refuge. Jack Kelly had come to visit him after his first four months and gave him some new clothes, he told Francis that he was going to Santa Fe to start over. The clothes were made of wool and probably cost a good sum of money so he was grateful. Now they came in handy in the cold cell that he was confined to. He longed to be back in the boy's dorm with all of his friends and today he would be given that chance.

"GET UP AND GET DRESSED, YOUR TIMES UP!" He yelled at the little boy that was laying before him on a cot. Quickly Sullivan jumped out of bed and ran out the door. He began singing and every boy turned to see what had happened. A short and skinny boy came running towards him. When they met both boys spit in their hands and shook each other's hands.

"What took so long Jack?" asked the skinny boy.

"I told ya my name's Francis"

"I know, but that ain't a street name."

"And Spot is? That sounds that you're a dog?"

"Just wait till we get outa here and you'll understand. Hopefully you'll toughen up as well…"

"Hey! I'm stuff enough to bet anyone here, but you!"

"I guess but out there the bad ones don't get caught,"

"Then why are you here?"

"I told ya I was drunk and passed out,"

"Why were you drinking at six? Most kids are age are in their first year of scho…"

"We ain't most kids, Jack. We have to grow up and defend ourselves, learning isn't a priority."

"You can't say that Spot. To grow up we got to have the brains…"

"You saying I'm not smart? Just now I came up with a full proof plan to get us outa here and you calling me dumb?"

"What type of plan are we talking about? You mean escaping?"

"You _are_ smart Jack" Spot patted Jack on the back and walked over to his bunk. When he came back He handed Jack a rolled up piece of paper.

"HURRY UP! GET DRESSED AND IN ATTENDTION!!" Yelled a guard from the door.


End file.
